


Angry Smuggler

by Jestana



Series: SWTOR fics [10]
Category: Star Wars: The Old Republic
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-13
Updated: 2014-08-13
Packaged: 2018-02-13 01:26:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2131839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jestana/pseuds/Jestana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Sith Pureblood who's Force-blind, her parents sold her to a slaver. That and what she went through left her angry, bitter, and disinclined to be nice to anyone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ord Mantell

**Author's Note:**

> Kejine's sister, Fyeria actually has a better temperament for being a Sith. Unfortunately, she doesn't have the sensitivity with the Force. So, she's a smuggler instead.
> 
> **Edit:** Since I didn't use a customization for Corso on Jeveen, I decided to use one on Fyeria: [still hot](http://http//www.torhead.com/item/c0hnJGQ/corso-riggs-customization-3) in my opinion.

The growl was the first hint they had that the Sith Pureblood was there, orange eyes bright and fierce under the dark make-up that surrounded them. To hide the spike of fear that lit his eyes for a moment, the soldier barked at her, "Hey! What are you doing here? You're not allowed in here! This is a top secret operation!"

"Looks more like it's illegal to me," the stranger propped her hands on her hips, one eyebrow arched. She had no spikes or spurs on her face like many of her kind, though there were subtle ridges that seemed to follow the contours.

The prisoner, seeing a potential savior perhaps, spoke up, her tone clearly desperate. "Please, you have to stop them! They're torturing us!"

"I said shut up!" The soldier backhanded the prisoner, the bruises on her face attesting to the fact that it wasn't the first time. "She's a traitor to the Republic. She deserves what she gets. But the courts are full, you see, and so justice needs a little help. If that means Republic soldiers have to twist a few arms, so be it."

Orange eyes narrowed, seeming for a moment to be on fire. "What you're doing isn't justified."

"Torture is a legitimate tool of warfare." He spat the words back at her, his eyes dark and angry. "Do you think the separatists won't use it? Do you think the Empire won't use it?"

Before he could continue, he had a blaster in his face. The Sith's words were practically snarled. "Do I _look_ like I know nothing about the Empire?"

"Of course not." The soldier swallowed, but didn't show any other signs of nerves at having a blaster in his face. He even continued his tirade! "These wretches have been caught, every last one of them, doing work for the separatists. They are traitors and more importantly they have information on separatist movements. All we're doing is coaxing it out of them--information that will save so many Republic and Mantellian lives. Who'll care how we got it?"

The blaster didn't waver, those orange eyes so fierce and angry. "I'll care, and I'll make sure your superior cares, too."

"Look, you're a merc, right?" She just gazed back at him, only the rise and fall of her chest proof that she was alive and not a statue. "Just take this ring back to this girl's daddy and tell him it's all you can find of his little girl. The ring's got a listening device in it. We'll be able to gather all the evidence we need--without resorting to these unsavory means. Got it?"

She caught the ring when he flipped it to her. Never taking her eyes off his, she dropped it to the plasteel floor beneath their boots and ground it under her heel. "No deal. I said I'd free her and I don't go back on my word."

"Fine, you want her so bad, you can have her." The soldier pushed the prisoner towards the Sith so she stumbled, giving the other woman no choice except to catch her. As she helped the young woman to her feet, the soldier snorted. "Not like she was our only prisoner, anyway."

A blaster bolt scorched the floor just in front of his boots. "I'm not done with you." The fierce eyes turned to the prisoner. "What really happened?"

"We just visited a couple rallies," the prisoner explained as the Sith produced a set of lock picks from her utility belt and unlocked the binders around the young woman's wrists. "Doesn't mean we actually _agree_ with the separatists." She shot a glare back at the two soldiers. "So much for being allowed to form our own opinions."

The soldier snorted, arms folded scornfully across his broad chest. "The story gets more implausible every time you repeat it."

"I have business to take care of elsewhere," her voice was low and deadly as she leveled her blaster at him again. "When I return, the others better be on their way to their homes as well."

A disbelieving look. "What'll you do if they're still here?"

"I'll kill you." The calm, matter-of-fact way she stated it would have sent chills down anyone's spine, even the most hardened of warriors. "Won't be the first time I do it and probably not the last."

The prisoner tugged at her arm. "No, don't! You'll go to jail if you do!"

"She's right, you know." The soldier tried to put on a brave face, but the hand resting on the butt of his own weapon betrayed him.

In reply, a green bolt spat from the weapon, grazing the sleeve of the soldier's uniform. "That's your warning shot. If those people aren't gone by the time I get back, I _won't_ miss."

With that, she turned and stalked out of the interrogation center, the former prisoner on her heels. "Thank you so much for saving me!"

"Try to be more careful until this war ends," the Sith replied, fending off a hug from the young woman as she reholstered her blaster.

Nodding the young woman clasped her hands behind her back. "May I please know your name at least?"

"Fyeria, Captain of the _Spitfire_." The hard expression softened just a little as she said the last word. Then she shook herself and the softness was gone as quickly as it'd come.

"Thank you for rescuing me, Fyeria."

"You're welcome, Qo'el."


	2. To and On Coruscant

"Is it just me, or are you being a hypocrite?" Corso kept his question to himself until they were on the shuttle to the Republic fleet.

Fyeria looked up from breaking down her blaster, orange eyes hooded and shuttered. "What do you mean?"

"You killed that pirate and Syreena almost out of hand and goaded the bounty hunters into attacking us," he explained, ticking off his points on his fingers. "When I wanted to kill Markot, you stopped me. What gives?"

She resumed breaking down her blaster and cleaning it, her voice measured and precise. "I was born a Sith. Killing for revenge is in my blood. You, on the other hand, are still a good and honorable man. Though avenging the death of your family would have satisfied you in the moment, knowing you killed a--mostly--innocent man in cold blood would have come to haunt you in the end. I couldn't allow that."

"It's _my_ life, what gives you the right to run it?" Corso leaned forward on the table between them, glaring.

The tip of a vibro knife suddenly pressed against his nose. Reluctantly, he sat back in his chair and the vibro knife disappeared. "I was in charge of the mission. That's what gave me the right to overrule your desire for revenge." The Pureblood didn't look up from re-assembling her blaster, the movements of her hands steady, precise, and swift. "Killing Markot wouldn't have brought your family back."

Corso couldn't think of a response to that. Although, from the sound of it, Fyeria had experience with that. "Is that why you're a smuggler? You lost your family?"

"You could say that, yes." She inspected her blaster one last time and slipped it into its holster. Orange eyes met his directly. "Do you have any further grievances you want to get off your chest or can we go to bed with the air cleared between us?"

He held up his hands. "Nothing further."

"I'll see you, then." With that, the Pureblood stood up and left the lounge for the bunks. The human remained where he was, looking out at the stars. Fyeria was one hell of a puzzle.

* * *

"Man...sad to see a place like this all busted up." Corso made the observation as they stood in what once was the foyer of the Jedi Temple, looking in awe at the piles of rubble, dust coating every surface. "Wonder how many Jedi died here?"

Fyeria didn't seem to hear his comment, her voice almost too soft for him to hear, but her words shocked him all the same. "My family did this."

"They what?" He quickly pointed his blaster rifle at her. "Are you here to finish the job?"

Somehow, her laugh wasn't very comforting. "Do you _really_ think I'd have brought you along if I'd intended to properly destroy this place?"

"You have a point there." Corso lowered his weapon with a sheepish laugh. Turning to look at the ruins once again, he asked, "I thought only Sith attacked the Temple?"

The captain moved forward a few steps, her boots scuffing in the dust. "You're mostly correct. A majority of the attackers were Sith." He opened his mouth to ask a question and she answered before he could voice it. "Including my father."

"Why didn't you become Sith like him?" He knew he was being very nosy and rude, but this was the most forthcoming Fyeria had been since they started working together and he wanted to take advantage of it.

When she turned to him, her orange eyes almost seemed to glow for a moment. "In order to become a Sith, you must have a connection to the Force. Without it, you cannot become Sith. You are...nothing."

She reached up to touch her neck then and realization hit Corso like a blaster bolt: she worked so hard to stop slavery whenever and however she could because she'd had a personal experience with it, thanks to her family. Carefully, he stepped up beside her, "There's more to life than bein' Sith. You've proven that."

"I don't need empty platitudes, Riggs," Fyeria practically growled at him, her eyes flashing.

Corso kept his stance easy and his smile casual. "Not empty platitudes: I mean every word. You're an amazing woman."

"I already knew that." She rolled her eyes and drew her blaster. "We still have a job to do."

He hefted his blaster rifle into a ready position, "Right behind ya, Captain."

**Author's Note:**

> For now, I've chosen to discontinue this work. I'm not inspired for it like I am for the others. I'm sorry to anyone who was hoping for more.


End file.
